


Gold Lust

by ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit (1977), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dubious Consent, Gold Sickness, Insanity, M/M, Madness, Male Slash, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Erebor is retaken, Thorin goes mad with gold sickness. He develops a desire for his nephew, Fili, because of his golden hair.</p>
<p>Note: This story contains NSFW original artwork and penetrative sex had under duress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold Lust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Universal_Acid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Universal_Acid/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my literary partner-in-crime, Universal_Acid! Uni drew me a terribly hot (yes, I know I'm going to hell) picture of Thorin and a very under-duress Fili copulating on the throne of Erebor, based on the prompt that Thorin has gone mad with gold sickness and desires Fili as well.

Morning came. Another night had passed in which Mahal had ignored his prayer to be granted death. Only death, Fili was certain, would ever save him from his fate—his shame.

Thorin had given Fili a beautiful room that had been spared Smaug’s destructive wrath. Blue tapestries with gold piping, however ancient, hung everywhere. Thorin claimed they matched Fili’s eyes. That was in his more lucid moments.

Thorin, his beloved uncle and role model, had gone mad. Mad with the gold sickness.

Fili had seen glimpses of it before the epic battle that had claimed the lives of so many, but it was afterwards, once the dwarves had reclaimed their ancestral home, that the breadth of Thorin’s illness became apparent. He had sent emissaries to their people in Erud Luin and the Iron Hills, giving them the all clear for a return to Erebor. He set the company to work, picking up every coin, every gem, every chalice, every piece of jewelry Smaug had hoarded and creating a treasury in the mountain's most secure depths.

Thorin visited the treasury several times a day, for hours at a time. He often spent the nights there. Those were the times Fili enjoyed most, for it kept his uncle’s attention away from him.

The first time, he had been flattered by his uncle’s advances. He didn’t understand, just then, what Thorin’s attentions implied. He just knew that finally, _finally_ , Thorin was showing him the same tactile affection he never hesitated to show to Kili. Oh, those stolen, sweet, acknowledging touches—lingering hands on shoulders, cuppings of cheeks—had been painful to see as a youth, and it got no easier as he grew into adulthood. Oh, how he had struggled to hide his jealousy!

Fili would never forget that fateful day when Thorin asked him to accompany him to the treasury and bid Dwalin to go outside and stand guard at the door. The treasury made Fili uncomfortable—all that wealth that reached to the ceiling. Fili had never known wealth. He didn’t quite know what to do with it, let alone grasp what he and his family might truly be worth.

Thorin’s eyes glittered in the torchlight. “Isn’t it beautiful, Fili?” he asked, voice softened, awed, as if seeing his One for the first time. But Thorin’s One—his first love—was gold.

Fili felt sick in his stomach, but answered, “Yes, Uncle. It is truly marvelous to behold.”

“It’s _ours,_ ” Thorin reminded him. “When you are king, you will determine how it is distributed among our kind. They’ll soon be arriving in droves, eager to lay eyes upon it, to reclaim it. They will lust for it. We must be ever vigilant, Fili. I imagine many of them will also lust after you.”

It took a moment for Fili to fathom Thorin’s words. “Uncle?” he wrinkled his brow.

“Only once every few generations is a dwarf born with hair of your hue,” Thorin clarified. “Our line is blessed. _I_ am blessed. You are a treasure as well, Fili,” the monarch raised his hand to caress Fili’s hair.

It should have been a tender moment, but Fili suddenly felt very scared. He blushed and ducked his head, which only encouraged Thorin to move closer. “I am your king, and until you are king, you remain my subject. Tell me, Fili, what lengths would you go to, to please your king?”

“I would do anything you ask of me, uncle,” Fili reminded him. “You have taught me everything that I know.”

“And yet there is still so much to learn,” Thorin drew closer to his side, hand clasping the back of Fili’s neck. “My golden treasure,” he whispered in Fili’s ear. “I would take you as my consort. I know that you and your brother are,” he pursed his lips, then spat the word as if it were distasteful, “ _intimate._ This would be a service to your king.”

“You mean to say,” Fili stiffened, “that I…that we would…”

“That is exactly what I mean to say, Fili,” Thorin’s blue eyes were alight with specks of gold reflected from the torches, “my most precious, golden treasure.” He placed a gentle kiss to Fili’s forehead.

_I can do this,_ Fili thought. _For my king. For my beloved uncle._

It was painful that first time, on the floor of the treasury, with only Thorin’s saliva to ease the way. Thorin’s gold sickness, when it came to a head, left him with little compassion for anyone but himself. The coupling was hurried in Thorin’s desperation. Fili bled; it was not to be the first time.

 

\- - - - -

Thorin, who had become in his own right a master forger, fashioned Fili new hair clasps of solid gold, set with precious gems.

“To adorn you,” he told his consort when gifting them. “Wear them for me.”

Fili wept when, alone later with his One, he had to remove Kili’s lovingly crafted clips and put Thorin’s onto his braids.

“Promise me, Kee,” he begged his brother, weeping at the discarded pile of clasps, “you must promise me that, when I am king, if I ever become like Uncle…you must kill me.”

“ _Men lananubukhs menu,_ ” Kili kissed his forehead, his eyes, his lips. “I could never harm you, my love. It would be like harming myself. We’ll get through it…together. And we will get through _this._ ”

Fili moved eagerly into Kili’s warm embrace, his redemption from the nightmare his life had become. “It is you I love, atamanel. My Kili. No one but you.”

 

\- - - - -

Thorin decreed, within a few weeks, that the company should be present when he had his way with Fili…in the throne room. In his madness, he bade them watch as Fili was ravaged.

Fili knew they were all uncomfortable in their own way. Ori sobbed nearly every time and would cling to his oldest brother. Bofur stared at the space between his boots.

Oin, in whose quarters Fili inevitably spent most evenings after these sessions, was disgusted. The gold chains with which Thorin would bind Fili’s hands would dig into the prince’s wrists, drawing blood. If only Fili wouldn’t struggle so much.

 

 

 

Still, some of the others seemed uncomfortable simply because they enjoyed the spectacle.

Fili could meet none of their eyes, save his brother’s. Dear, sweet Kili, whom Dwalin had to physically restrain by both forearms lest he run forward and endanger himself by contradicting the king.

"Hush now, lad. It'll be over soon, I promise,” Dwalin would croon in Kili's ear. “Your uncle is the king. He is well within his rights to do this. You know that. Shhh...."

Those sessions never lasted as long as Fili feared, but they always lasted longer than they should. It did not cease when the Dwarrows began to return to Erebor to take up residence, nor when delegates of elves and Men came calling.

\- - - - -

There had always been _so much gold_ in Erebor that artisans often found creative uses for it. Ori, who—in addition to writing, fancied himself a bit of a potter—busied himself during the clean-up of the city by repairing what pottery he could.

Fili joined him on a day when Thorin allowed it, and found the flame-haired dwarf leaning intently over a tan jug, painstakingly fusing on the handle and a broken triangular piece with lacquer tinted with molten gold.

“It’s beautiful,” Fili remarked, softly.

“Yes,” Ori agreed. “A vast improvement.”

“What’s it called, what you’re doing? With the gold?” Fili wondered, stirring the mesmerizingly sparkly lacquer with a second paintbrush.

“It’s called _kidhezabri,_ ” Ori told him, tilting the jug and appraising his work. “I mix lacquer with melted gold paste and, well, you can see for yourself how it ends up looking. The understanding is,” he raised his eyes to meet Fili’s, “that it’s more beautiful for having been broken.”

The weight in his words was unmistakable and Fili reached for his hand, squeezing it gratefully. “Teach me how?”

Ori nodded. “There’s a platter over there. I think I found all the pieces. It’s really quite simple,” he told the young prince. You just need to have a steady hand. Try it, you’ll see.”

Fili’s eyes welled, and he thought—if only for the briefest of moments—that he might just lose his composure in the face of Ori’s kindness. But he did not. The moment passed, and he picked up a brush.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The pottery technique Ori uses, "kidhezabri," is based on the Japanese art of Kintsukuroi, (n.) (v. phr.) "to repair with gold"; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken. 
> 
> I'd like to thank BlueMonkey for sharing it with me. It's perfect, like you.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Desperate Measures](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1412875) by [Finduilas88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas88/pseuds/Finduilas88)
  * [My Golden Treasure](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730858) by [Namarea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarea/pseuds/Namarea)




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